


Now take a good long look at what you´ve done to me

by mainsqueezemish



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cuddling, First Kiss, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Thug Number One Two and Three, and then they dont, i wrote this during corona isolation, smut with feelings, they use their words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:36:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23237809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mainsqueezemish/pseuds/mainsqueezemish
Summary: “Good thing I have you, eh?”At that Geralt laughs incredulously.“If you knew what´s good for you, you´d be running away from me and not after me.”Jaskier gets into trouble, Geralt blames himself, they fight and then they don´t..
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 11
Kudos: 389





	Now take a good long look at what you´ve done to me

**Author's Note:**

> I don´t know what this is. Blame it on the self-isolation and me getting obsessed with the Witcher within the last two weeks. First work in this fandom, also first time writing something explicit so please be gentle.
> 
> Stay home, wash your hands and enjoy this!

Word travels fast, Jaskier knows. It´s a fact he makes use of time and time again to get his songs heard by people all around the Continent. This time around it has come back to bite him in the ass.

Geralt and him are staying at an Inn in some little town, where the Witcher has just taken a contract for a kikimora. It´s a normal hunt, nothing special.

(If Jaskier thinks too hard about the fact that he now considers hunting kikimora to be something normal, he´s going to suffer an aneurysm, so he doesn´t.)

They´re planning on staying the night before starting their way into the swamps with first daylight tomorrow. And because they´re low on coin, even with the contract, Jaskier plays for the Inn´s patrons that night. It goes well, too. He´s become quite popular over the years if he may say so, and most people know the words and sing along. It´s a party.

While Jaskier is completely in his element, he knows that Geralt prefers the quiet solitude of the forest to this crowded room of drunk people. And after the Witcher has been sitting in the corner, broodingly, for about an hour, Jaskier gives him a little nod to say he´s welcome to go to bed. After all he doesn´t need a babysitter, he´s a grown man. And although he teases Geralt about it relentlessly, he´s not actually sure his companion enjoys listening to him.

Apparently just waiting for this, the Witcher gets up, leaves a few coin on the table and makes his way through the crowd to the stairs. Jaskier watches him leave, a little stab of disappointment going through him. He had hoped that maybe Geralt would choose to stay.  
He forgets about it soon enough, when he gets swept up in the noise of the crowd again and begins to sing another one of his greatest hits.

It´s only about two hours later, that the party dies down and Jaskier finds himself slumped into a chair at the bar. He´s sweaty and tired, but happy. He´s missed this. He wouldn´t change travelling around the Continent with Geralt for the world, but he became a bard for a reason. There´s just nothing like a crowd chanting the words that he had thought up.

Now he´s exhausted though, and he wishes for nothing more than a hot bath and the bed waiting for him upstairs. He could bet that Geralt is still awake and he wants to share with him this rush, that he´s feeling. He imagines it similar to what Geralt feels after a successful hunt.

Before he even reaches the stairs, he is stopped. Suddenly there are three men surrounding him, clad in black, weapons reflecting the dull lighting of the Inn. He looks around quickly, but the bar room has cleared out, and not even the Innkeeper is anywhere to be seen. Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he puts on a bright smile.

“Gentleman, I´m afraid the party is over. If you don´t mind I´d like to retire to my room now.” They don´t back off, not that he expected them to.

“We heard you were in town, bard,” the first one leers. “You see we´ve been waiting a while for this, and here you are, basically on our doorstep.” “I´m always pleased to meet fans, gentleman. But I´m afraid it has been a long- oh.”

The second of the thugs has pulled out a small dagger and holds it under Jaskier´s chin, making him lift it to expose his throat. “Shut up!” he hisses.

“See, we´ve heard about this bard, travelling with a Witcher of all things. And not any Witcher. The Butcher of Blaviken,” monologues the first. Jaskier narrows his eyes, “Don´t call him that.” All that gets him is the dagger pressed harder into the skin of his neck, just short of drawing blood.

“See, we have unfinished business with that man. And word on the street is, you´ve gotten quite close to him. Have been whoring yourself out to him, haven’t ya. Enjoy taking it from-“ He doesn´t get to finish his sentence, because suddenly there´s the tip of a sword sticking out from his mouth.

Jaskier shrieks a little, before he spots Geralt behind the guy. He doesn´t have much time to be relieved before the guy holding the dagger to his throat pulls him backwards, right into him. He can smell the guy, can almost hear his heart pumping with fear. Or maybe that´s his own. He looks up in time to see Geralt cut down the third guy without remorse. He doesn´t even have time to scream.

Then he turns, slowly, in their direction. “Let the bard go.” the Witcher growls. The pressure to Jaskier´s neck gets stronger. “Geralt,” he whimpers.

“I will kill him,” the guy says right next to his ear, and Jaskier can feel the spit flying from his mouth.

“I don´t think so,” drawls the Witcher, stepping closer and closer. Jaskier can feel the hand holding the dagger twitching and considers the possibility that he might actually die here. Obviously, he needn´t have worried, because in the next moment Geralt is there, moving with animalistic speed, and then the guy behind him drops, letting the dagger fall right into Geralt´s waiting hand.

It´s quiet for a moment, the sounds of both of them breathing hard filling the room. Jaskier sees the wild look in Geralt´s eyes as they wander over his face, the look that usually comes with a kill. He thinks he sees something else there, too. Before he can linger on it too much, his knees give out. Geralt is there to catch him, grunting a bit in surprise but holding him up by the waist and then hoisting him up over his shoulder. “Alright.” Jaskier says and his eyes close.

When he opens them again, he´s horizontal, head propped up on some pillows. He´s in their room, on the bed. It´s dark but some light is coming from the fireplace, where he can see Geralt sitting hunched over his weapons and his sharpening stone. Jaskier feels as if he´s been run over by a horse and groans when he tries to sit up. Geralt turns around swiftly. “You´re awake.”

“Regrettably.” Jaskier groans, but he gets up from the bed to stretch his limbs.

“I checked for injuries. You´re probably just coming down from the shock.”

Jaskier balks and his face turns a little hot at the image of Geralt patting down his body, while he was unconscious.

“The bastard cut you on the neck, but its shallow.” He can see Geralt clenching his fist.

“Meh it´s fine.”

Geralt makes an uninterpretable sound.

“Good thing I have you, eh?”

At that Geralt laughs incredulously.

“If you knew what´s good for you, you´d be running away from me and not after me.”

“What?” He´s confused.

“Did you not see what I did to those men?!” There´s a look somewhere between pain and anger on Geralt´s face.

“I mean, yes. It was pretty brutal, but honestly they had it coming and-.“

“Damn it, Jaskier!” Geralt growls and the dagger he´d been holding embeds itself into the wall behind Jaskier with a thump. The same dagger, that had almost cut Jaskier´s throat, a few hours earlier.

“You don´t scare me.” Jaskier´s voice is wobbling slightly, but his head is held up high. “You can try all you want, Witcher, but I won´t do you the favour of buying into that silly façade you´ve constructed for yourself.”

“I don´t scare you?” Geralt gets up swiftly, his movements animalistic. “Then you either have a death wish or are just incredibly stupid,” he says snidely, stalking closer to where Jaskier is still standing by the bed. He´s tall and broad, and towering over the bard. Jaskier, unwillingly, takes a step back, suddenly confronted with 200 pounds of angry Witcher. Still, he doesn´t look down, holding Geralt´s eyes defiantly.

“Maybe, I just trust you not to do anything to hurt me.”

“Yeah? And how´s that going for you?” Geralt chuckles bitterly. Jaskier´s wants to laugh. “Maybe _you´re_ the one who´s stupid. For one, that wasn´t your fault, and two-.”

“Last time I checked, you didn´t have thugs coming after you, when you were just an ordinary bard-“

“I detest being called ordinary,” Jaskier interrupts and Geralt glares at him “Of course, that´s the thing you take from that,” he says frustratedly, “you almost died!”

“Wouldn´t be the first time.” And it´s true, even though it´s been a while that he´s gotten this close to actually biting it.

“I don´t remember you getting so riled up when that Djinn hexed me.” It´s clearly the wrong thing to say because Geralt´s eyes take on that predatory glint again. “You´re proving my point. The Djinn hexed you because I wished for some peace and quiet.” Jaskier shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. So what. 

“I´m dangerous, Jaskier!” Geralt yells and runs his hands through his hair roughly.

“I don´t care.”

For a moment they just look at each other.

“I don´t care, because with you I´ve lived through adventures wilder than I could´ve ever imagined. With you, I´ve seen places more beautiful than a painter could ever paint. With you, I´ve felt things...” he´s raising his voice now, because how dare Geralt, how dare he shit on those memories they have made together. “I have felt things I could never dream to put into a song, because I could never describe them. With you, Geralt.” He´s breathing a little harder at the end of his little tirade. He swallows and his voice breaks a little. “With _you_.”

“Damn it Jaskier.” Geralt growls and pushes Jaskier into the wall beside the bed. He´s caging him in with his hands on both sides of Jaskier´s face. Their noses almost touch. Jaskier can´t move.

“I´m not scared of you,” the bard repeats quietly. He can feel Geralt´s breath on his face.

“Fuck.” Geralt says and crushes their mouths together.

 _Oh_.

Geralt kisses with an intensity that betrays how keyed up he actually is. He bites at Jaskier´s lips like he wants to eat him, and Jaskier doesn´t have any interesting in stopping him. He kisses him back, with equal fervour. He buries his hands in Geralt´s hair, not so gently pulling at the strands. Geralt licks into his mouth, exploring the heat he´s greeted with, gasping when Jaskier bucks his hips. Their legs slot together and they´re grinding against each other without rhythm.

Jaskier feels hot all over and breaks away from the kiss to gasp for air, panting. Geralt moves a hand onto his jaw and lifts, reminiscent of the position Jaskier had been forced into earlier. He looks at the Witcher through hooded eyes.

“Geralt, please.” he gasps. The Witcher latches onto his neck, where the dagger had cut him, sucking and biting the sensitive skin he finds there. The sweet pain it elicits in Jaskier makes him moan, sounding loud in the quiet room.

Geralt moves from his neck up to his chin, littering bites up his jawline, soothing them with his hot tongue. Finally, he´s back at his mouth and they join their lips once again. Geralt brings his hands to cup Jaskier´s face, enveloping him gently. They hang onto each other´s lips, sucking and biting eagerly. Jaskier´s hands clutch at Geralt´s biceps, and he thinks of the strength of his partner, and how save he feels in his arms.

He softly pushes against Geralt´s chest, which immediately gets him to take a step back, separating their mouths and searching his face as if afraid he has done something wrong. Jaskier chases his lips and murmurs “Bed” against Geralt´s mouth.

They fall back together, Geralt taking the brunt of their weight. Jaskier wants to touch every part of him. He sits up on Geralt´s lap and wrangles with the string on his shirt, pushing at the neckline in frustration when it doesn´t expose his chest quickly enough. He hears a low chuckle, and when he looks up at Geralt´s face he finds he´s being watched. The Witcher´s hand come up to hold him at the waist, sliding slowly underneath his shirt and raking it up when he strokes up his sides. He can feel the callouses on Geralt´s hand and it makes him shiver. Quickly, he grabs at his shirt and pulls it over his head. Those hands move from his sides to his front, fingers raking over his stomach and ribcage, finally reaching his nipples. When Geralt starts playing with them he can´t help but throw back his head, clutching at Geralt´s shirt. He´s fucking sensitive and Geralt´s making use of it. Needing to move he grinds down onto Geralt´s lap which results in a delicious noise escaping the other´s lips.

Geralt sits up suddenly, which brings with it some moments of perfect friction, and wraps his arms tightly around Jaskier´s naked torso. His arms reach all the way around him and Jaskier hides his face in Geralt´s neck and revels in being held like this. The feelings of warmth and safety momentarily overpower the lust. Taking some deep breaths, he´s lost in Geralt´s familiar smell and the novelty of this kind of closeness. The other seems to realize and holds on a little tighter, peppering Jaskier´s shoulder and neck with small kisses. Never in a million years had Jaskier imagined it could be like this.

He lifts his head and meets Geralt´s gaze. “Hi” he says. “Hmm.” Is the answer, and it´s so _Geralt_ that he can´t help the bright smile. The other´s eyes turn fond and Jaskier can see his mouth curl up slightly. His hands are still tangled in the neckline of Geralt´s shirt, his arms caught between their bodies. His fingers dance lightly over the bit of skin they can reach, close to his clavicle. He gets another “Hmm” in return.

The fire is still burning and paints everything in an orange glow, and although it is pretty dark, from this close Jaskier can see all the details of Geralt´s face. His eyes are halfway closed, his golden eyes soft and he looks content. He leans in to capture the Witcher´s lips again and they´re soft with each other now, taking their time to study each other´s mouths. Jaskier licks around Geralt´s mouth, sucking at his tongue, making him make a low sound in the back of his throat.

Slowly, but surely the flames of lust start flicking at them again, and their movements get more desperate by the minute until Jaskier starts moving his hips again, slowly circling against where he can feel Geralt growing hard in his pants. The hold of his arms around Jaskier loosens a little and he uses the newfound freedom to rake the other´s shirt up and off, finally. Victoriously, he throws it away and lowers his head to start sucking little kisses on Geralt´s collarbones. Shifting back a little on Geralt´s lap, he reaches his ribcage with his lips, feeling the other´s heart beat strongly under his mouth.

With his hands he paves the way down Geralt´s torso, sliding over the raised skin where he has scars, following with his lips and tongue. Slowly he makes his way down and slides further down the bed. Geralt seems to realise where he´s going. He leans back on the bed and gently weaves a hand through Jaskier´s hair, playing with the strands, gripping a little tighter whenever the bard kisses an extra sensitive spot.

Hovering over him, Jaskier reaches the thin hair on the lower part of Geralt´s stomach. He looks up questioningly, meeting the Witcher´s gaze, which seems to have been resting on him all along. Geralt gives a court nod, biting his lip. Jaskier grins and reaches to undo the string on Geralt´s pants, pulling them off swiftly. Now he´s the on biting his lip, reaching out and taking Geralt´s cock in his hand. He´s hard, precum already building at the top. Geralt responds wonderfully, moaning quietly when Jaskier spits into his hand and strokes his cock slowly but firmly. His own cock rears its head at the sound, feeling neglected. With his unoccupied hand he pushes down onto his own crotch, gasping with the friction, but it really isn´t enough.

“Let me” Geralt hums above him and starts gently tugging him up by the hair. “Wait. I want to-.“ Jaskier dives back down, enjoying the few seconds of pull on his hair before Geralt loosens his grip. He licks a long line up the underside of Geralt´s cock and takes the head into his mouth. “Fuck.” Geralt curses. “Hmm,” hums Jaskier, vibrations making the cock in his mouth twitch. He takes him as deep as he can without choking and covers the rest of it with his hand, then hollows his mouth and slowly moves up and down, enjoying the weight of Geralt on his tongue.

The hand in his hair is still there and tightens every time he takes his cock into his throat. The other one comes down to cup Jaskier´s cheek. It takes the bard a moment to realize that Geralt can probably feel himself through his cheek and he moans loudly around him. “If you could see how you look right now” Geralt groans lowly. Jaskier loves the way he sounds, knowing he´s the one making him come undone. He swallows around him, taking him deeper once more, before pulling off.

“You want to come in my mouth?” he asks huskily. “Fuck.” Geralt pulls the bard up, crashing their mouths together again. Their lips meet at the same time as Geralt gets his hand inside Jaskier´s pants and closes it around his cock. He licks into his mouth in time with the strokes. It´s Jaskier´s turn to curse now, then he gathers his wits enough to grab Geralt´s cock as well. They breath into each other´s mouths, grind into each other´s palms. They´re chasing the high, crashing into each other roughly, no time left for fancy tricks.

“I´m close,” Jaskier breathes against Geralt´s lips. The Witcher moves faster and kisses him wetly. One, two, three strokes later, Jaskier shudders and comes with a long moan.

Determined to get Geralt off as well, before he goes boneless, he tightens his fist and twists his wrist every time he reaches the head of his cock. Geralt´s wet hand closes over his, while his other arm grips tightly onto his back, probably leaving bruises. Jaskier leans closer and pants into his ear “Come on Sweetheart, let me see you.” Then bites down onto his earlobe. Geralt cries out “Fuck” and then he´s coming too.

Jaskier lets himself go slack then, falling gracelessly onto Geralt´s sweaty chest. The Witcher grunts in surprise but slings his arms around him, holding him tightly. 

They lie there together, a sweaty mess between the rucked-up sheets. Slowly coming down, Jaskier lifts his head a little, smiling up at Geralt. The Witcher´s mouth twitches a bit in return. “So that happened.” “Hmm.” is the answer he gets.

“Now take a good long look at what you´ve done to me, Witcher,” Jaskier murmurs sleepily, “and the next time you get it into your head that I´m better off without you, think about this.” He burrows his head further into Geralt´s chest. “I´m totally gone on you, Geralt of Rivia. And don´t you forget it.”

Geralt slowly pushes a strand of hair out of Jaskier´s face and looks down at him. Then he takes his hand and squeezes tightly. “I am always looking, Jaskier. Don´t _you_ forget about _that_.”

**Author's Note:**

> I only figured out how punctuation in direct speech works in the middle of writing this, so if you find any mistakes there, or really any other grammatical error, feel free to tell me. The title is from The Amazin Devil´s Farewell Wanderlust. Go check them out they´re amazing.


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